


Accidental Boyfriends

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Kinda, Kissing, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: When Oswald suffers an injury, Detective Jim Gordon is the first person the hospital calls. Why? Because Oswald "accidentally" saved him as boyfriend.





	Accidental Boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genmitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/gifts).



> This is a very late birthday present for genmitsu - hope you enjoy this silly story! :)

The quiet of the night was disturbed by the shrill wailing of a phone. Jim groaned and reached out for it, only managing to sweep it onto the floor. He murmured a curse under his breath, then opened his eyes properly to find the phone on the floor, finally answering it after the fifth ring.

 

“Gordon,” Jim grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

 

“Sorry to disturb you at this time, sir, but Mr Oswald Cobblepot got into an accident. He's at the Gotham Memorial.”

 

“What? What happened?”

 

“Do not worry, he's fine, but we need to keep him in for a few days.”

 

Jim blinked a few times. “Um, okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

Only once he was in the car and speeding towards the hospital did he question the reason he was called. Up until then, Jim's thoughts were clouded by worry, wondering what trouble had Oswald got into again and how serious his injuries were. 

 

He supposed the accident was a police matter, a shooting perhaps, a deal that went south and so the hospital thought Jim would be best to call. It was strange that it wasn't the GCPD informing him, but he didn't brood too much on it. Or maybe Oswald listed him as his emergency contact, which was ridiculous enough, but he'd let it slide this once and give Oswald a lecture about friends and the  _ real  _ nature of their relationship.

 

The nurse at the reception pointed him towards the right room, and Jim hurried there. Fuck, he hoped he was not too late. The corridors seemed infinitely long, and he was almost out of breath by the time he made it to the right room.

 

Oswald was in the bed, seemingly fine, though surrounded by all kinds of machines. When Oswald noticed him, Jim could tell that his presence was unexpected. Oswald's eyes became wide open, his eyebrows raised. “Jim? What are you doing here?”

 

Before the detective could reply, a nurse entered the room to check Oswald's infusion. “Oh good, your boyfriend's here.”

 

“What?” Jim and Oswald said at once.

 

“We called him while you were unconscious. Looked through your phone contacts, and he was listed as ‘boyfriend’.”

 

Neither of them could utter a single word. Jim's brain was stuck on the word while Oswald blushed and looked away, mortified, his heart rate monitor starting to beep loudly. 

 

Luckily, the nurse saved them from the awkward silence. “I bet you were worried about Mr Cobblepot. The wounds look worse than they are. The shoulder one is superficial,” the nurse said and that was when Jim noticed the bandage under Oswald's thin robe. “The wound on-”

 

“I'm fine, really,” Oswald interrupted her loudly.

 

“What happened?” Jim addressed the question to the nurse, but he was staring at Oswald with fires in his eyes, fists clenched tightly.

 

The nurse looked uncertain, gaze flickering between them.

 

“It's alright, Dolores, I'll deal with the detective. Thank you.” To Oswald's credit, his voice didn't waiver, even though the heart rate monitor gave him away.

 

The nurse looked at Oswald and only left when he nodded in confirmation, as if to say that he'd be fine alone. Jim rolled his eyes, and wondered if the hospital staff knew who they were dealing with. Maybe then they'd be more concerned about Jim's safety, and not the other way around. 

 

“What did you get into this time?” Jim demanded.

 

“That's none of your business, detective!” Oswald's tone matched Jim's in irritation.

 

“Oh really? It sure is if you have me saved as boyfriend in your contacts.”

 

Jim got closer to Oswald's bed, his heart rate monitor beeping again.

 

“It was a m-mistake. A safety precaution.”

 

Crossing his arms, Jim waited expectantly.

 

“I save every number under a different name, in case s-something happens, for example if my phone is taken or if I lose it.” Oswald wiped his palms on his bedsheets under Jim's hard stare. “Gabe is saved as my uncle, Zsasz as my cousin.”

 

“And me as your boyfriend… right.” Jim didn't believe a single word, but he couldn't fathom Oswald's reasons. He was much more interested in the gangster's wounds.

 

“Why don't you tell me about how you got hurt?”

 

Oswald hid the shoulder bandages under the hospital-issued gown. “Nothing much to say, Jim. It's just a graze. I'm sure the illustrious GCPD has better things to do than to nurse my bruises.”

 

Jim huffed with annoyance, ready to get a confession out of him whatever it took, but just as he stepped forward, Oswald's heart monitor started beeping again, alerting the two nurses on duty.

 

“Okay, that's enough excitement for today,” one of them said, gawking at Oswald's flushed cheeks. 

 

Jim rolled his eyes at the nurses faffing about Oswald. It was clear that he wouldn't get far that day, so he decided to leave. “You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

 

“I wouldn't expect anything else!” Oswald said after him, and Jim was certain the gangster was grinning, despite not looking back at him.   
  


* * *

 

As soon as Jim left, Oswald leaned back against his pillow with a sigh. Keeping up pretenses while being in more pain than usual proved to be quite challenging, especially with an audience to witness everything.

 

“Your heart rate is back to normal,” Hannah, the other nurse, said with an amused smile.

 

Oswald groaned, slumping into his bed. Normally, he might have stabbed her for making such a remark, but his nurses had been extremely helpful and kind.

 

“Don’t worry, honey, we understand. If I had a boyfriend like that…” Dolores said, and Hannah nodded vigorously.

 

“He’s not…” Oswald started, but couldn’t say it. 

 

What would he say anyway?  _ He’s not really my boyfriend. One late night when I felt lonely and had a bit more wine, I just changed his name in my phone and I completely forgot about it. He’s not my boyfriend, he actually hates my guts with all his being. _ Yeah, he was pathetic, but he didn’t want to admit it.

 

“Oh sweetie, it’s just a tiff, he was worried about you,” Hannah said, patting his head as if he were a helpless child, and Oswald didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was not like that, not at all. If anything, Jim probably started dancing with joy when he received the news. Oswald’s chest felt tight and he nodded, let the nurses baby him while he wallowed in self-pity. 

* * *

Jim didn’t think twice about going back to the hospital the next day, egged on even more by Oswald’s reluctance to see him there. Obviously, he was hiding something, and Jim’s detective instincts were making him go crazy, like a bloodhound that finally got a faint whiff after hours of searching.

 

He stormed through the hospital, not afraid to show off his badge, and would have walked straight into Oswald’s room if it weren’t for one of the nurses from the day before. 

 

“Morning there, detective. You’re early.”

 

Her big, round, brown eyes stared into Jim’s soul. Hannah, her name tag read.

 

“Uh, yeah, I wanted to see Oswald.”

 

Hannah’s gaze fell on Jim’s hands. “Right. Where are the flowers?”

 

Jim frowned. “What flowers?”

 

“Look, detective, Oswald really hasn’t been well. He was very quiet after you left, so you should make up. I’m sure some flowers would lift his spirits. There’s a gift shop on the ground floor.”

 

“I don't think that's necessary…”

 

“It is. I know under that tough guy exterior you actually care about Oswald very much,” she raised her index finger before Jim could protest. “Nuh-uh, I saw it yesterday. Try showing more emotions, detective.”

 

So under Hannah's expectant gaze, Jim shuffled to the shop with his tail between his legs, face burning. God, Hannah was a bully. Jim barely murmured a hello to the shop assistant as he carefully browsed the selection of flowers. He had no idea what Oswald would like, and for a moment he almost left with empty hands, but then Hannah would surely be standing guard in front of the door and not let him in... 

 

Clearly, the hospital staff was still under the impression that he was Oswald’s partner. He wondered if he should correct them, but it was probably too late now. Jim chose a lovely bouquet with a sunflower in the middle and a little tag that said ‘get well soon!’, and he trotted the corridors with a grumpy expression.

 

Oswald was reading the papers when Jim finally entered his room. His neutral expression turned into a frown then into complete shock when he noticed the flowers.

 

“For you,” Jim mumbled and handed them to Oswald, something infinitely gentle and sweet taking over him as he watched Oswald's eyes light up, his lips forming a small smile before he stopped himself.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Hannah came in, sparing them more blushes. “Oh, those flowers are gorgeous! Let me put them in water,” she exclaimed, winking at Jim on her way out.

 

They were left alone, awkwardness creeping in. Jim stood in front of the bed, hands on his hips. “So, uh, how are you today?”

 

“I’m fine, on the mend. Will probably get out in a few days,” Oswald said, leaning against his pillow with a sigh. “I can feel my brain atrophy from doing nothing, though. They only have the Gazette as stimulus.”

 

“You’re supposed to rest, Oswald. You’ve been shot.”

 

“Yes, but not in the head.”

 

Unable to help himself, Jim snorted and shook his head. This, lying practically motionless in a bed all day had to be hell for Oswald, the nervous energy that surrounded him never let him rest. Jim was familiar with the feeling.

 

“What are you laughing at, James, you went to work half dead more times than I can count,” Oswald said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t mean that you have to do the same.”

 

“Breakfast time,” another nurse announced as he wheeled in a cart and set a tray in front of Oswald.

 

“Thank you, Richie.”

 

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Cobblepot.”

 

Jim’s jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw the guy winking, yes,  _ actually winking _ , at Oswald. What? Was the nurse actually flirting with the criminal kingpin of the city? How dare he?! 

 

No, no, that was the wrong line of thought. Not in the jealous way, but the ‘are you completely insane?!’ kind of way, where Jim wanted to grab the young man and enumerate Oswald’s worst crimes. Would he be winking at the gangster then? He really doubted it. Not that Oswald wasn’t handsome - those suits really looked good on him, and his features were so delicate and expressive, but damn it, that was not the point. Jim wasn’t sure who he wanted to convince anymore.

 

“Ugh, it’s porridge again.”

 

Jim looked up, meeting Oswald’s disgusted expression.

 

“Not a fan?” Why was he glad that the food Richie brought was not to Oswald's liking?

 

“There's just so many ways you can eat mush before getting tired of it. The only palatable thing on this tray is the orange juice,” Oswald said and took a sip from the plastic cup.

 

Jim understood his woes; the few times he’d been here he either survived because he was completely out of it, or Harvey snuck in food for him. Oswald didn’t have to know that, though. “It’s just a few more days. You’ll survive.”

 

“I bet you’d be delighted if I didn’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, wouldn’t your life just be so much easier without me, detective?”

 

The icy look in Oswald’s eyes felt like a stab to his heart. Jim tried to sooth it over. “Shut up, Oswald. Don’t be so dramatic.”

 

Oswald pushed the tray away from him and crossed his arms, turning his head away. “I won’t talk to you about what happened anyway, detective. It’s none of your business.”

 

“I’m going to find out anyway.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Fine.”

 

They stared each other for a long time before Jim realised he was going to be late for work if he didn't leave. 

* * *

Jim made it just about in time to work. Harvey was there already, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Once he set it down, Jim snatched it, but he couldn't find anything about a shooting. He was reluctant to ask Harvey, but he had no other choice.

 

“Hey Harv, have you heard anything about a shooting last night? Some mob business?"

 

"No, but Alvarez arrested this punk that says he shot the Penguin. As if," Harvey snorted. "Pretty sure we would have heard of that."

 

Jim nodded, pretending he didn't know anything, but he was sure the guy could serve more information. He went to Alvarez's desk, looking around carefully to make sure that no one was eavesdropping.

 

"Hey, Alvarez. Heard you arrested someone who claims that he shot Cobblepot?"

 

"Yeah, caught him with a shitload of guns, he says Penguin was supposed to buy them, but then something happened and they started firing. He's still in room 3 if you want to interrogate him."

 

"Thanks."

 

So, a botched arms deal. Jim was not surprised that Oswald would try to hide that from him. The perp in the interrogation room was a young man, tapping on the table with his fingers.

 

"Hey, dude, will you let me out of here? I'm bored."

 

"Not before you answer some questions," Jim said and sat across from the guy. "So start talking."

 

"I already told everything to the other detective," the perp complained, but Jim glared at him until he sighed in defeat. "Alright, what do you wanna know?"

 

"Is it true you shot Cobblepot?"

 

"Yeah, I did. I think so… it was pretty damn crazy, man. He looked half dead when he arrived already."

 

Jim frowned. "What do you mean?"

 

"I don't know, just super pale and sweaty, like he was going to fall any minute. Thought someone poisoned that bastard or something. So suddenly he collapsed, and one of his guys thought we shot him and then they started shooting and we answered and so on, get it? I'm pretty sure my bullet caught him in the shoulder, though, when his bodyguard tried to take him to the car. Do you know if he died? Then I'd be the King of Gotham."

 

Jim grimaced, and had a hard time not punching the douchebag. "He's alive and kicking. If I were you, I'd stay low."

 

"Oh shit, is he coming after me?"

 

Jim didn't say anything, the guy becoming more and more panicked. 

 

"Hey, hey, is Penguin coming? Detective! Is he planning revenge?"

 

Jim grinned from ear to ear as he turned around, and left the perp alone with his thoughts. He totally deserved it for being so arrogant. Even though he didn't find out everything he wanted, Jim now knew that whatever got Oswald hospitalised, it didn't have anything to do with the gun deal, and strangely, that comforted him.

* * *

Oswald was brooding after Jim's visit. The initial joy he caused with the flowers was ruined by his insistence on finding out what happened. Even if he had told Jim the truth, he doubted the detective would have believed him. His stupid heart always sped up around Jim, betraying him in front of everyone.

 

His phone pinged and Oswald was surprised to see it was a message from 'Boyfriend'. Oh damn, he forgot to change it back to Jim.

 

_ Verne or Dickens? _

 

That was not what Oswald expected, especially not at ten in the evening, but he replied.  _ Dickens. _

 

Oswald stared at his phone, then his curiosity got the best of him.  _ Why are you asking me for literary advice anyway? _

 

_ You'll see. _

 

_ Keep your secrets then _ , Oswald replied and put his phone on the night stand, however it pinged once more with an incoming text.

 

_ :) _

 

Oswald stared at the screen. How dare James Worthington Gordon send him a smiley? What was that supposed to mean?

 

“Why are you frowning?” Dolores asked, putting Oswald's evening pills on his tray.

 

“It's Jim. I don't know why he texted me this… thing.”

 

“Let me see.”

 

Oswald showed the message to the nurse.

 

“So? Just text back a smiley.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

Dolores shrugged. “Well, if you want to investigate his mood.”

 

Oswald was not sure what he could possibly get as a reply, but he listened to Dolores and texted Jim a smiley. A few seconds later his phone pinged again.

 

“See, he was waiting for your text!” Dolores exclaimed, getting closer so she could read Jim's reply. “ _ Good night, Oswald, _ ” she read aloud, squealing with delight. “Oh, this could go in several ways, but if you want to be a bit naughty, you should-”

 

“Thank you, Dolores, I know how to take it from here,” Oswald mumbled, unable to stop his cheeks from becoming flushed.

 

“Okay, honey, but don't stay up too late.”  Dolores giggled, and Oswald had no doubts that she probably thought he was going to send Jim kinky messages.

 

That obviously wasn't the case, but Jim did deserve a reply.  _ Good night, Jim. _

 

He slept much better that night.

* * *

The next morning, Oswald was waiting for Jim to show up. He'd even managed to hobble to his bathroom before breakfast, to comb his hair and style it a bit, so he didn't look like a sickly Victorian child. It was like sitting on pinpricks, and he hated waiting with all his heart, but the nurses sent him encouraging smiles whenever his hope left him. After a while, though, even their heartfelt ‘he will come soons’ felt hollow as the clock showed eleven already.

 

He didn't come.

 

So Oswald spent the rest of the day sulking, watching tv and imagining millions of ways how to kill his enemies. Richie even brought him a magazine from the waiting room, but he read it from cover to cover in less than an hour. His pain had started flaring up again, and Oswald lied down, his back to the door. 

 

What a fool he was to have thought that Jim Gordon cared about him! He was just doing his job, because he was a great cop, but since Oswald had refused his multiple requests to help, he wouldn’t return. Jim was a good man, but his goodness couldn’t be stretched to infinity. Hot tears escaped his eyes, and Oswald let them flow, let his heartache take over his physical pain. Jim would never even consider him as a romantic partner, would never look beyond his moralistic views.

 

He didn't realise for how long he lay there crying, but the light was fading outside and he couldn't stand the pain anymore. He pushed the call button for the nurse while hastily wiping his tears away.

 

Dolores came in after a couple of minutes. “Hey Oswald, what can I get you… oh honey, is everything alright?”

 

Oswald's voice wavered. “Could you please get me a painkiller?”

 

“Of course, honey. We also need to change your bandages.”

* * *

Jim had been itching all day to get off from work, but they got a new case and he'd been busy reading files and interrogating people for hours. He finally managed to escape after seven and he bought some food before hurrying to the hospital. The security guards didn't want to let him in until he flaunted his badge and told them they could be arrested for impeding an investigation.

 

As he walked down the corridors, Jim thought maybe he had overreacted, but it didn't matter, he was finally in front of Oswald's room. He opened the door only to find Oswald and one of the nurses holding his right ankle, both looking at him with wide eyes. 

 

“Jim!” Oswald panicked and kicked his duvet so that it covered his leg again, though Jim had already seen the extensive bandaging. He looked away, mind reeling with various thoughts. So that was the other wound that made Oswald collapse during the arms deal. What had happened to it, though, why did he try to hide it? He only looked up when the nurse broke the awkward silence.

 

“Alright, I'll let you two talk. Let me know if you need anything else.”

* * *

Jim had come, Jim had come to visit. Oswald's heart was beating like crazy, ready to jump out of his chest. The sight alone filled Oswald with unspeakable joy, but his high was shadowed by guilt. Jim had undoubtedly seen his wounded leg and would probe him with questions which Oswald would not be able to answer. Not that he didn't want to, but it was too embarrassing.

 

But Jim surprised him yet again.

 

“Sorry about the late visit, had a hard case at work. I brought dinner, though,” Jim said and raised the bag in his hand.

 

Oswald stared at him, shock stealing his words. Jim brought a chair next to the bed and sat down. Oswald was still trying to make sense of this whole thing, when the detective finally looked at him. “I hope Chinese is okay?”

 

Oswald nodded and the relieved smile on Jim's face made his insides turn to mush. Jim had listened to his complaints and brought him real food. Not only that, but he’d bought several dishes, so Oswald could choose his favourite.

 

“Here, take the spring rolls,” Jim said, passing Oswald another box.

 

“That's too much, we could share them?”

 

Oswald was trying to eat slowly, his eyes wandering to Jim from time to time. It was such a simple thing, to be eating together with someone, but Oswald rarely got this opportunity with anyone, let alone with Jim. It was intimate and it felt good.

 

“Don't you like it?” Jim asked when he noticed that Oswald stopped eating.

 

“I do…”

 

“We can swap if you'd like.”

 

Oswald looked down and smiled. “I assure you, Jim, it's perfectly fine… I just wanted to thank you for this.”

 

Jim swallowed. “Hospital food that bad, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They both knew it was not that, not at all, but Oswald was afraid that his tears might start again if he opened up. He needed to steer the conversation to neutral topics. “That case at work… what is it about?”

 

“Double homicide at the museum. A cleaner and a night guard who wasn’t on duty. It’s a bit of a mess,” Jim said and rubbed the side of his face.

 

“Was anything taken from the museum?” Oswald asked with a frown. If he weren’t confined at the hospital, he definitely could be more helpful.

 

“No, not that they could tell.” Jim yawned then, and Oswald could see the dark circles under his eyes. He was probably called to the murder scene very early in the morning.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Go get some sleep, James.”

 

The detective nodded as he put his jacket on. “Yeah, long day tomorrow.”

 

Jim probably would be too busy to visit then. Oswald told himself it was fine, he’d already gotten more than he’d expected.

 

“Here, this is for you,” Jim said, handing Oswald a copy of  _ Great Expectations _ .

 

“Is this why you texted me?”

 

“Yeah, I didn’t want to bring you something you hated.” Jim looked embarrassed, ready to run off, but Oswald impulsively caught his hand.

 

“I wouldn’t have hated any book…” he said, looking deeply into his eyes. “Thank you, Jim. You saved me from death by boredom.”

 

Jim smiled. He was ready to leave, but lingered by Oswald’s bed. He put his other hand on top of the duvet, over Oswald’s shin, so very lightly. “Are you going to tell me about this?” His voice was even softer and gentler than his touch, and Oswald’s tears came back.

 

Jim was such a good man, he deserved to know, he deserved  _ everything _ , but he couldn’t tell him. “I can’t, Jim, I-I wish, but… it’s embarrassing. Maybe later.”

 

He was convinced Jim would storm out of there, never to return, and Oswald just stared at his duvet, holding onto Jim’s hand more tightly, willing him not to run off. He could shake off Oswald’s grip easily. But Jim not only kept his hand in Oswald’s hold, he squeezed it, his whole being radiating safety.

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? It’s fine.”

 

Oswald wished he could have put his arms around Jim, because he had never felt more affection for him than in that moment. But he just nodded and basked in Jim’s kind look, eyes widening as Jim suddenly leaned in and kissed his forehead.

 

“Good night, Oswald.” Up-close, Jim was even more beautiful, and Oswald’s heart skipped a beat.

 

“Good night, Jim,” Oswald whispered, as if in a trance.

 

Jim turned back from the door. “See you tomorrow.”

 

Oswald had never been happier to hear those three words.

* * *

Jim was looking through the files, tapping a pencil against his lip. He couldn't stop thinking of Oswald, which was no different from usual, but now he didn't try to suppress the gentler feelings. The way Oswald looked at him the previous day… Jim was surprised he didn't do something silly, like kiss his lips.

 

And now even the mystery of Oswald's wound was somewhat elucidated. His bad leg had been hurt somehow, and Jim swore to make the bastard who did that pay for it. It had to be a rather serious injury, for the bandages extended from Oswald's knee to his ankle. Jim wanted to know what happened to it, but Oswald was really anguished, so he didn't want to push him. However, as Oswald's ‘boyfriend’, maybe he could inquire the nurses about his state. It was perfectly understandable to be concerned about his boyfriend's health.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Harvey asked, looking at Jim suspiciously.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Yeah, sure. Did you finally take my advice and hook up with someone?”

 

Jim leaned back, crossing his arms. “No. Just reunited with a friend.”

 

“Oh, so that's what the youth calls it nowadays,” Harvey laughed.

 

“It's not like that.”

 

“Sure. Will you see her again?”

 

Jim worked his jaw, unsure of what to say. He decided that truth was the easiest. “It's a him and yes.”

 

“Okay… interesting.”

 

“Really, Harv, there's nothing to it.”

 

“Alright, whatever you say. Hope you get lucky.”

 

Jim threw his pen at Harvey, both laughing when it hit Harvey square in the chest.

* * *

Jim managed to leave work in time that day, and he bought meatball subs at a small shop next to the hospital. He would have gone straight upstairs to Oswald's room, but then he remembered that the flowers started wilting, so he stopped by the gift shop first.

 

“Detective. So glad to see you here by your own initiative,” Hannah said with a proud smile.

 

Jim rolled his eyes. “Hi, Hannah…” This was his opportunity to find out more about Oswald’s injury. “How's Oswald leg? Is it better?”

 

“Oh, he finally told you, the silly boy! God, I'm so relieved. Poor thing was so worried about you finding out, even though we told him that he should tell you. Mr Cobblepot should really be more careful with braces, they can do more harm than good. We’re treating the infection, he’ll get better soon.”

 

Jim needed a couple of seconds to collect himself. Oswald was hurt by a device that should have helped himt? Why would h allow such a thing? Jim realised was still talking,  so he tried to focus on what she was saying.

 

“...sounded like a shady business. I don’t know why he went there. Presumably to keep all this hush hush.”

 

“I won’t let them get away so easily,” Jim stated, hands clenched tightly.

 

“Very good, sue them, arrest them, do whatever it takes,” Hannah said with equal conviction.

 

“How bad was it when he got here?”

 

“Really bad… we feared he might have septicemia, which is ridiculous considering that he was also shot.”

 

Jim was horrified. He suspected that Oswald felt complexed by his limp, but to be so desperate as to use an inadequate brace…

 

“You know, some gentle massaging would really help…”

 

“Oh, y-yeah, of course, I’ll do it,” Jim stammered, the thought of touching Oswaldin such an intimate manner making him blush.

 

“Great! My break’s over,” Hannah said, glancing at her watch. “Good luck finding flowers.”

 

Right, flowers… That was why he came in the first place. A bouquet of purple tulips caught Jim’s eyes. So simple and unassuming, but their colour was magnificent. Besides, Jim always thought Oswald had a preference for purple, and he also looked great in it. Jim was not blind, but he always thought that the fact that Oswald was a criminal should always come first before his feelings for him. 

 

However, as he watched Oswald from the tiny window in the door, his chest felt much too small for all the feelings inside him, and he swore to put them to the forefront for once.

* * *

Oswald closed the book he was reading and sat upright when he noticed Jim peering into the room. “Am I disturbing you?”

 

“You? Never. I was just reading,” Oswald said, and set the book aside. “Already finished a third, forgot how good it is.”

 

Jim nodded, clearly pleased that his present and  _ presence  _ were appreciated. “Umm, I brought these.”

 

Oswald took the tulips with the biggest smile. “Thank you. I love their colour.”

 

Jim blushed, just faintly, but Oswald’s keen eyes noticed it. “I brought dinner too.”

 

Oswald gasped. “You’re spoiling me, James.”

 

“It’s just a meatball sandwich, nothing fancy,” the detective said as he handed it to Oswald and brought a chair right next to the bed, sitting closer than the previous day.

 

Oswald bit into it impatiently. “I assure you, it’s a thousand times better than anything served here.”

 

Jim hummed and they ate in silence for the next minutes. He seemed preoccupied with something and Oswald wasn’t sure if he should say anything, but he figured work would be a safe topic. “Any developments on the museum case?”

 

“Seems to be an inside job. One of the museum’s unexhibited items was the target, but the robber couldn’t get through the security system. The two people who were shot probably caught the robber in the act.” Jim sighed, suddenly looking weary. “We keep interrogating the employees, and they all seem to lie. Or cover for someone.”

 

“You’ll get to the end of it, you always do,” Oswald said.

 

“There’s one thing I can’t get to the bottom of…”

 

Oswald perked up. “Anything I can help with?”

 

Jim watched him for a moment. “I hope so… see, this important figure got into trouble, he always does, but the injury that actually put him in the hospital is unrelated to that trouble.”

 

Oswald paled. So Jim knew.

 

“And it’s just… I want to understand what went down. He’s always so careful and pedantic about these things, I don’t understand how he let it happen.”

 

Oswald’s first instinct was to get up and leave, but with the state on his leg it would have taken too long. “Maybe he didn’t realise how bad it was…”

 

“It must have hurt like hell… that should have been an alarm bell,” Jim said quietly, and Oswald found it difficult to look away from his eyes.

 

“Yes, but… maybe he learned that everything in life comes with pain, so he thought it was normal. That it was supposed to hurt and cause shame.”

 

Oswald couldn’t look up, but he felt Jim’s hand on his arm. “I’m sure there are better, less painful ways to go about it. And if you need my help, with kicking the asses of the people who gave you the wrong thing, then I’m here.”

 

Jim’s hand slid lower and Oswald caught it, holding it tight. “Thank you.”

 

It felt as if a burden was lifted from Oswald’s chest and he smiled shyly at Jim. He’d never thought he’d be supported by the detective, not in such a way. It was true that admitting his silliness was difficult, but Jim didn't mock him. He was there for him with no judgement. 

 

Afterwards, the dinner felt even better, as there was no other secret or shame hiding between them.

 

“I got into really big trouble when the librarian found me hiding in a corner with what she called not age appropriate books,” Oswald recounted, Jim snorting at his story.

 

“Always a troublemaker.”

 

“Oh, as if you were a saint!”

 

Jim shook with laughter. “I broke a window or two.”

 

Oswald gasped mockingly. “Oh my, and we all thought you were a goody two-shoes.”

 

“I had pretty good grades if you must know.”

 

“Oh, I have no doubts. Bet you charmed each one of your teachers.”

 

Jim yawned. “Oh yes, except Ms. Watkins, my English teacher. She always saw through me.”

 

“You’ve never read your books, did you?”

 

“My mind’s too restless,” Jim shrugged.

 

“Hmm…” Oswald inspected the book Jim brought him. It was an old edition, but not really worn, as if no one had opened it before. “So you haven’t actually read this one?”

 

“Guilty as charged.” Jim smiled sheepishly, and Oswald could totally see how he could get away with everything. “Want to read for me?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, easier to focus.”

 

Oswald opened the book to the first page. “Um, alright.”

 

He’d never read to another person, but Jim was clearly very keen about it.  _ “M _ _ y father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip.” _

 

Oswald read on, sometimes glancing at Jim. Although at first he listened with his eyes wide opened, Oswald noticed around halfway through the first chapter that his eyelids became heavier, and soon Jim closed his eyes. By the end of the chapter, Jim had fallen asleep, his head lolled to the right, chest slowly rising with each breath. With the new case, he didn’t sleeping enough and working overtime on top of his hospital visits. Oswald sank into his pillow and just watched Jim, the peacefulness of his expression. 

 

After a while, Oswald returned to the chapter where he left off and resumed reading, glancing at Jim from time to time and smiling. He hoped the poor detective would not wake up with a crick in his neck, but he didn’t have the heart to wake him. At some point even Hannah peered in and smiled at the lovely tableau, signing to Oswald whether Jim needed a pillow. Oswald shook his head, he didn’t want to wake him.

 

It was while he turned a page that Oswald felt eyes on him, and sure enough, Jim was watching him, eyes still narrowed with sleep. “Was my reading so boring?” he asked with a laugh and reached out, Jim clasping his hand automatically.

 

The detective shook his head. ”No. Soft an’... soothing.”

 

Oswald wanted nothing more than to have Jim lie down beside himself and he tugged on his hand. Jim knew what he wanted and gave in easily, taking his shoes off and then climbing right next to Oswald, staring at him with his big, blue eyes.

 

“Why don’t you keep reading?” Jim murmured, his index finger tracing Oswald’s jaw.

 

The gangster watched him, gasping when Jim’s thumb joined to trace his lower lip. “You’re a bit… distracting.”

 

Jim smiled. “Just a bit?” He leaned in and captured Oswald’s lips in the softest kiss, just for a moment, but oh so perfectly.

 

“Keep doing it and we’ll find out,” Oswald murmured and smiled against Jim’s lips as he stroked Jim’s nape and sifted through his silky hair.

 

“Alright, boyfriend,” Jim said and continued to place kisses all over Oswald’s face, making him giggle.

 

They would have probably gone on for a while, were it not for noises coming from the corridor. The nurses were checking in on everyone, giving their evening pills and turning the lights off.

 

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Jim said with a sigh, smiling at Oswald’s pout.

 

“You could stay a bit longer.”

 

“And be the subject of a new wave of rumours?” Jim asked as he put his shoes back on.

 

“We’re past that,” Oswald admitted, trying to look innocent. “They already think we text, uh, not exactly innocent things at night.”

 

Jim raised an eyebrow. “How did that happen?”

 

“Well, you know, our conversation about books might have been misinterpreted.”

 

Jim laughed, and Oswald decided it was a really good look on him.

 

“Okay, let's not give them more fodder then. Their imagination is rife as it is.”

 

Oswald missed Jim's warmth when he got up to put his shoes back on. His blond hair was sleep mussed, making Oswald smile.

 

“When will you be released?” Jim asked as he straightened his clothes.

 

“The doctor said tomorrow.”

 

“Alright, text me and I'll come and pick you up.”

 

“You don't have to…” Oswald started, but Jim silenced him with a kiss.

 

“But I want to,” Jim murmured against his lips. “Besides, what would the hospital staff say about your boyfriend not picking you up?”

 

“Shut up, James.” There was no heat behind Oswald's words, and Jim's cheeky smile lured out Oswald's too. “Come here.”

 

Jim obeyed, and leaned down, cupping Oswald's face in his hands. “Good night.”

 

“Good night, Jim.”

 

Oswald leaned back against his pillow, lips still tingling with Jim's kisses. He decided he didn't need to change Jim's contact name in his phone after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
